Man, she was good.
“You don’t need protection here.”
Her jaw hardened. “I appreciate that, but I’d still like my knife back... Sentimental value.”
“Sure.” He raised his hands as if in surrender. “I didn’t mean I was keeping it forever. You can get it when we go out to the truck.”
“I can wait. I don’t need it now.” She laughed, which snapped the wire of tension stretched between them. “Point me to the laundry room, and I’ll get my clothes.”
“Through the kitchen.” He leveled a finger at the slatted door between the kitchen and the laundry room.
She gathered the plates on the table, including his, and placed them in the sink on her way to the laundry. “Thanks for the breakfast.”
Several seconds later, she emerged, clutching her pants and T-shirt to her chest. “The sooner I shower and dress, the faster I can get out of your hair.”
“Happy to help.”
Nodding, she sidled out of the kitchen and turned the corner to the hallway.
When he heard the door snap close and the water start, Rob let out a long breath. He didn’t know what to make of Jane. Should he be foisting her onto Rosie?
He’d let Rosie make the determination. He had faith in her ability to judge someone’s character—at least more faith than in his at the moment. Being near Jane scrambled his senses for some reason.
Less than fifteen minutes later, Jane emerged from the bathroom. Her wet hair lay in tangled waves over her shoulders.
Rob jumped up from his laptop. “I’m sorry. I should’ve put out a comb and some hair products for you.”
She shrugged. “You can be excused. You’re a bachelor...aren’t you?”
“Look at this place.” He swept his arm to the side, taking in the neat room, every pillow and book in place, and his face warmed as Jane cocked her head.
“Doesn’t look like any bachelor pad I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m kind of a neat freak, but you won’t find many feminine touches or niceties in here.” He marched past her. “However, I do have sisters, and they usually need an army of products and a ton of time to make themselves presentable.”
She tugged on the ends of her wet locks. “Not very presentable, huh?”
He glanced over his shoulder, his face heating up even more. “I didn’t mean that. You look amazing for being in that car accident yesterday. How’s your head?”
“I think it looks better without the bandage—less severe, and I can cover it with my hair. It feels fine.”
She wouldn’t tell him if it didn’t. He swept into his bathroom and grabbed some hair products and other toiletries. He carried out an armful and dumped them on the vanity of the guest bathroom.
When he turned, he almost plowed into Jane standing in the doorway. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks. I’ll see if I can look more...presentable.”
She came out the second time, bunching the ends of her hair into her fists. “I guess I’ll leave it curly.”
“Looks fine. Can’t even see the wound on your head.”
“That’s crazy that such a small cut could cause so much...blood.”
“Head wounds bleed.” He closed up his laptop. “Are you ready?”
She tucked the ripped hem of her shirt into her pants. “I am now. I hope your friend Rosie isn’t picky.”
He hoped Rosie didn’t think he was crazy. They walked out to the Border Patrol truck, his own truck parked on the street in front of his house. He opened the door for her and helped her in with a guiding hand on her back, which stiffened at his touch.
If her ex had abused her, he could understand her jitters, but that still remained an if in his mind. A lot of her story didn’t add up.
He scooted behind the wheel and she said, “My knife?”
Yeah, a lot of things didn’t add up.
Reaching beneath the seat, he said, “I think I stashed it here.”
His fingers traced the edge of the knife’s handle, and he pushed it farther under the seat. “It’s not here. I’ll have a more thorough look later. Is that okay?”
She snapped her seat belt and gripped the strap with two hands. “Yeah, sure.”
On the ride to Rosita’s, Jane peppered him with questions about the town. When she’d gotten her fill, she slumped in her seat. “You know a lot for being relatively new here.”
“I made it my business to find out everything I could about Paradiso. I probably know more than some natives. You know how that goes.”
She nodded. “I do.”
He slid a gaze in her direction and then pointed out the windshield. “That’s it.”
“Cute.”
He pulled in front of the café, and before he could get Jane’s door, she’d hopped out and stood in front of the restaurant with her hands on her hips.
“Looks closed.”
“She opens for lunch, but I know she’s here.” He raised an eyebrow. “Chickening out?”
“It’s a restaurant, not a roller coaster.” She charged past him and yanked open the front door.
He followed her into the cool confines of the tile-floored café with framed photos of Pancho Villa on the walls.
He called out, “Rosie? It’s Rob Valdez. Are you here?”
The grandmotherly woman bustled from the back, patting the long braid, streaked with gray, that wrapped around her head. “Rob, it’s too early for desayuna.”
“I’m not here to eat, Rosie.” He nodded toward Jane, twisting her fingers in front of her. “I have a...friend, Jane, who’s looking for a job—short term. She’s in a little trouble, Rosie.”
Rosie’s warm brown eyes turned to Jane, assessing her from head to toe. Her face broke into a smile. “Sí, sí. Puedo ayudar. I can help. Have you had some experience, mija?”
Jane smiled back, the expression lighting up her face. Then she broke into fluent Spanish that put his to shame.
Chapter Four
Her lips were moving faster than her brain and her brain was freaking out, but when Rosie responded to her in Spanish, Jane kept the smile plastered to her face.
How did she know Spanish so well? The mirror had shown her paler skin than Rob’s, but that didn’t mean anything. She could be half-Latina. The Rosalinda tattooed on her back? Maybe that was her name, a family name.
She held up one hand and said in English, “I’m a little rusty. Do you mind continuing in English?”
Rosie chuckled and nudged Rob with her elbow. “She’s being polite, Rob. Her Spanish is better than yours.”
Rob’s eyes narrowed as they assessed her. “It is, isn’t it?”
Jane swallowed and turned to Rosie. “I do have another favor to ask of you. As I explained to you, I had to leave my situation quickly and I’m trying to keep a low profile. That means I don’t have any of my credit cards or any cash. Would you be willing to pay me in advance so that I can get a motel room and maybe a few things to wear?”
Rosie’s bright eyes flicked from her to Rob. “I thought you and Rob...”
Rob cut off Rosie with a sharp cough. “Jane is my friend. Of course, you’re staying with me, Jane. I thought I made myself clear.”
“Rob is a very good man—the best.” Rosie folded her hands and held them beneath her chin. “I know he will help you.”
Rob smacked his hand on the countertop, probably wondering how he’d gotten in so deep. “I have a few things to do before I report to the station, so I’ll leave you ladies to get ready for the lunch crowd. Thanks, Rosie. Good luck, Jane.”
When the door closed behind Rob, Rosie asked, “Are you a friend of Rob’s from LA?”
Los Angeles? That was big and sprawling enough to cover all situations.
“Yes, we’re friends from LA.”
Rosie shook her head. “Such
a sad situation for him, but he’s a strong man.”
“He is.” Jane bit her bottom lip. Had his wife left him? Was he in witness protection? Did his dog die?
“I’m glad you’re here, Jane.” Rosie brushed her hands together. “I’ll explain what I need, and you can let me know if you have any questions.”
For the next few hours, Jane wiped down tables and plastic menus, refilled the condiments at each station, prepped little plastic baskets for chips by dropping a sheet of paper in each one and stacking them, and even helped out Sal the cook in the kitchen.
Her head still throbbed a little and her memories were as elusive as ever, but this job had given her a purpose for now and that was what she needed—along with money, clothes, an ID. At least she had a place to stay.
She wouldn’t hold Rob to that promise made for Rosie’s benefit. Maybe the advance Rosie gave her would be enough to get into a motel.
She knew she couldn’t stay in this town forever, pretending to be someone she wasn’t, someone without an identity, someone without a home or family. But the thought of delving into her past frightened her. She’d be walking right into a murderous plot.
Paradiso could be her jumping-off point, a place from which to launch an investigation of her identity. And maybe Rob Valdez could help her.
“Two minutes until opening.” Rosie stood in the middle of the floor, hands on her ample hips. “Estás lista?”
“I’m ready.” Jane used the corner of a white towel to rub an imaginary spot on one of the tabletops. “Let ’em in.”
Rosie unlocked the door and flipped the sign to Open. “It’s a slow stream at first, but then we get the employees from the pecan processing plant and there’s a rush.”
“Bring ’em on, Rosie.”
Jane handled her first few tables as if she’d been born to it. Maybe she was a waitress—with people out to kill her.
The lunch rush had her hopping, and she reconsidered the notion that she’d been a waitress in her previous life as she forgot items and spilled iced tea all over.
Rosita’s did a brisk take-out business, and a line of customers had formed at the counter to pick up their orders.
Jane’s gaze flicked over the line of people, and when a man yelled out that he wanted extra chips with his order, her blood ran cold in her veins. That voice.
With trembling hands, she delivered the salsa to her table and scurried back to the kitchen, keeping her head down. She pressed a hand against the butterflies in her belly as she leaned against the food prep counter.
The man who’d yelled out for food sounded like one of the guys who’d set her car on fire. Why would he still be in this town? She wiped her sweaty palms on the pants covering her thighs. She’d imagined it. What had she really heard of that man’s voice?
She ducked her head to peer through the window from the kitchen to the dining room. She hadn’t seen the men at the scene of the accident and couldn’t identify them, which put her at a distinct disadvantage. She remembered the black boots with the silver tips, but any number of people could be wearing those.
“Taking a break?” Anna, the other waitress, backed into the kitchen, her hands clutching two empty plates. “It can get hectic. If you need a breather from the dining room, you can package some of these to-go orders.”
“I-if that’s okay.” Jane surveyed the containers of food crowding the countertop. Even if the voice didn’t belong to one of the men from the highway, it had rattled her. She didn’t want to serve food looking over her shoulder.
“More than okay.” Anna picked up a slip of paper on top of one of the containers and waved it in the air. “Here are the orders. Just bag them and staple the slips to the handles of the plastic bags. Rosie will grab them and call them out by number.”
“Got it.”
For the remaining fifteen minutes of the lunch rush, Jane packaged the orders and kept her head down. She’d been mistaken. There would be no reason for those men to be in Paradiso. They thought she was dead, incinerated in that car. They’d be reporting back to whoever wanted her dead. Husband? Boyfriend?
She shivered and then jumped when someone patted her on the shoulder.
Rosie’s pat turned into a squeeze. “I’m sorry I scared you, mija. I just wanted to let you know you did a good job today. I’m glad Rob brought you to me, and now he’s here for lunch. Go see.”
A lock of hair had escaped from Jane’s ponytail, and she tucked it behind her ear as she sidled past Rosie out of the kitchen.
Seated at a table by the window, Rob raised his hand. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him, which she put down to the fact that his was the only familiar face she had in her sparse memory bank.
On her way to his table, she touched Anna’s arm. “Do you need help with the tables?”
“Jose will clean those. Go have lunch and leave. You did all the setup today, so I’ll take care of closeout.”
Lunch? Was that what Rob was doing here? He wanted lunch with her. This morning it seemed he couldn’t wait to wash his hands of her. That was before Rosie corralled him into taking her in.
As she approached Rob’s table, he jumped from his seat and held out her chair. She smiled her thanks.
Rob had already proved his trustworthiness. He hadn’t run to the cops, even though he was part of law enforcement himself. She should tell him about her predicament. She needed an ally.
Anna had already delivered a basket of chips, a bowl of salsa and a couple of glasses of water to Rob’s table. Jane looked at the chips and wrinkled her nose.
“Hazards of the job. You’re sick of chips and salsa already.” Rob grabbed a chip and dunked it into the salsa. “If you haven’t tried Rosie’s salsa yet, you’re missing out. It’s the best north of the border...and maybe even south.”
Jane took his advice and scooped up a healthy dose of salsa with a sturdy chip and bit off the corner. The heat of the jalapeño made her eyes water, but just a little.
She sniffed and said, “It’s good.”
“How did your first day of work go?”
“Rosie is so sweet and Anna, Sal, Jose—all of them.” She flicked at the corner of the plastic menu in front of her. Could she keep working here if her tormentors had stayed in the area? Where would she go if she didn’t?
Rob briefly touched her hand and then snatched it back. “Is everything okay? How are you feeling? How’s your head?”
She stroked the hair on the side of her head, covering the gash in her skull where her memories had leaked out. “It throbs now and then, but it’s not giving me any trouble.”
“I still think you need to see a doctor, sooner rather than later.”
Jane nudged his foot with hers as Anna came up to the table. “Ready to order?”
“You know me, Anna. Same old, same old.”
Anna tapped her head. “Burrito with carnitas, wet with green. How about you, Jane?”
“I’ve been eyeing those chicken tacos all day.”
“Good choice. Drinks?”
They both ordered iced teas, and then Rob planted his elbows on the table. “Tell me what happened.”
Jane blinked. “What happened? At work?”
He swept his hand across the surface of the table. “You had an abusive ex, you left him and he came after you. Did he cause the car accident? Are you going to report him?”
She licked her lips and took a sip of water. “It may be worse than that.”
Folding his arms, Rob hunched forward across the table, his dark eyes burning into her. “You can tell me.”
Could she? How did she even begin to tell him of her predicament? He’d probably want to take her straight to the hospital. Straight to the police. She couldn’t allow that. For some reason, she couldn’t allow that.
She rubbed her arms and opened her mouth to speak, but Anna interrupt
ed with their iced tea. “Food will be up in a minute. More salsa?”
“Please.” Rob tapped his glass. “And more water when you get the chance, Anna.”
Anna spun around to get Rob’s water, and he dumped a packet of sugar into his tea. “What were you going to say?”
“Before I get to that, can I ask you a question?”
“I’m an open book.”
“I can second that.” Anna returned with their food and topped off Rob’s water. “This guy can’t keep his mouth shut.”
“Is it your job to eavesdrop now?” He picked up his fork and waved it at Anna’s back. “You’re setting a bad example for Jane.”
Jane poked at her taco. If Rob were a talker, would he be able to keep her secrets?
He stabbed a piece of burrito and swept it through the salsa verde on his plate. “What’s your question?”
“Why’d you agree to help me? I figured as a law enforcement officer, you’d feel bound to call the police.”
He shrugged. “You were in a single-car crash. You didn’t destroy any property or hurt anyone but yourself.”
She stirred her tea with a straw, and the ice tinkled against the side of the glass. “It’s more than that, isn’t it?”
Rob sucked up half his tea through the straw before replying. “It was the abusive ex that got me. My mother had an abusive husband.”
“Your father?”
“No.” The line of Rob’s jaw hardened, and he plunged his fork into his burrito. “My stepfather. My dad died not too long after I was born.”
“I’m sorry.” She picked up her taco and tapped the edge of the hard shell against her plate. “And then your mother married a man who abused her.”
“Yeah, and I was too young to do anything about it. I’m the youngest of five.” He’d placed the tines of his fork on the edge of his plate, and his hand curled into a fist on the table.
“Is that why you went into law enforcement, to correct all the wrongs you couldn’t set right as a kid?”
His head jerked up, and he took a gulp of water. “Maybe. Are you a psychoanalyst or something?”
Unraveling Jane Doe (Holding The Line Book 3) Page 4